Here on Earth
by Margo'sShed
Summary: A man is bought into the ED after being found unconscious outside a supermarket. For seven days and seven nights Connie works around the clock trying to find out who he is, and what is wrong, whilst all the while slowly falling in love with the man who has yet to even open his eyes.
1. Chapter 1

**HERE ON EARTH**

 **(Story updated every Monday – with the possibility of extra's in between)**

 **This is just a very short introduction to the story. Please let me know if you would like to read more! :)**

 **It was early on Monday evening, when the sky was the colour of a velvet ribbon falling over the hills. Connie stood on her back doorstep, a cardigan wrapped about her for warmth, a mug cupped between her hands and held against her chest, the steam rising up into her face, bringing with it the nutty smell of black coffee.**

 **In that moment she truly believed that she carried her own fate in the palm of her hand, as if destiny was nothing more than a green marble or a robin's egg, a trinket any silly girl could scoop up and keep. She believed that all you wanted, you would eventually receive, and that fate was a force which worked with you, not against you.**

 **She thought of Grace, upstairs asleep. Tonight she hadn't fought sleep as she usually did, instead she had drifted off into a peaceful slumber within Connie's arms as she had read her the story of** ** _Litte House in the Big Woods._** **She had watched her for a while as she dozed, her eyelids fluttering, her mouth growing slack, her body heavy.**

 **And now she had time to herself! Time just to stand and stare, time to watch the sun go down on a day full of successes, no unexpected deaths, lives saved, that was how she liked it, and that was how it would be, she decided.**

 **She smiled. This was it, she told herself, the beginning of happiness, and she felt a bubble of elation rise within her throat.** **This is where it starts. And of course there will always be more. It never occurred to her that it wasn't the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment. Right then. And the future held no guarantee of more.**


	2. Chapter 2

**"Unidentified male, possibly late thirties, early forties, laceration to the right side of his head, found unconscious in a supermarket car park..."**

 **Dixie paused, waiting for Connie to fall in step with her.**

 **"No further details known."**

 **She concluded as she gave the bed one last push, forcing open the double doors to RESUS and handing over to the awaiting team.**

 **"No name, no ID?"**

 **Zoe asked as the patient was delivered. Dixie drew up her shoulders and gave a brief shake of her head before retrieving something from her pocket.**

 **"Just this. But it's locked."**

 **She handed over the phone, the case of which was scratched and chipped in one corner. Connie took the phone from her and turned it on, but the screen illuminated only to show that it was low in battery before it cut out.**

 **"Right, can we get someone to unlock this before turning it over to the police? Max?"**

 **She looked to Zoe who glanced up, her stethoscope midway to her ears as she leant over the man in the bed.**

 **"Probably."**

 **Zoe murmured, and Rita stepped away from where she had been adjusting the bags of saline ready for the drip and held out her hand.**

 **"I'll find him."**

 **She said quietly, and Connie placed the phone into the palm of her hand with a nod of thanks before moving over to patient.**

 **"Why haven't you hooked him up yet?"**

 **She asked, glancing between the heart monitor and the patient.**

 **"It's not working, I've sent for a replacement from upstairs."**

 **Zoe said quietly as she listened to the patients heart before checking his pupils.**

 **Connie raised her fingers to her forehead, she had already arranged for this particular machine to be fixed, she remembered writing down instructions that very morning.**

 **"Right, well..."**

 **She caught the movement of a technician by a machine on the opposite side of the room, he was tucked behind a curtain, his balding head just visible as he carried out the routine maintenance checks of various other pieces of equipment.**

 **"Excuse me?"**

 **She hailed him, though he didn't hear, and she called him again, louder this time, causing him to glance up, though he had been sure that it was not he who was being summoned.**

 **"When you have a minute?"**

 **She raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly to the BP machine beside her.**

 **He followed her gaze, a blank expression in the lines of his face and he raised a hand to scratch at the thinning white hair above his ear.**

 **"Did you, or did you not see a pale blue envelope on your desk this morning?"**

 **She asked, drawing in a breath, exasperated by how nonchalant this man seemed to be.**

 **"Yes, I did."**

 **He nodded slowly, as if only just remembering.**

 **"And what was written on that envelope?"**

 **She asked, her voice taking on the tone of someone addressing a small child who had misbehaved countless times before being caught.**

 **"N.B."**

 **He said with a shrug of his shoulders. And again Connie sighed, cocking her head with a silent 'Well?!'**

 **"But I'm not N. Bailey, I'm Arthur Bailey...A.B."**

 **He said simply with a raise of his arms, showing the his palms in surrender.**

 **"Oh!"**

 **Connie pressed her fingers to bridge of her nose, inhaling slowly.**

 **"You stupid man..."**

 **She murmured, opening her eyes in time to see the shock register on the old man's face. How was it possible for the hospital to employ somebody with so little common sense...**

 **"You can't speak to me like that?!"**

 **He exclaimed, looking to Zoe for help, but Zoe merely glanced back down to the patient whilst Max wheeled a new BP machine in next to her.**

 **"Oh, Mr Arthur Bailey, I can. For your information, N.B means Note Bene."**

 **"Who?"**

 **Arthur interrupted her and again he scratched at his head, a scattering of dandruff that made Connie's stomach churn coating the shoulder of his jumper.**

 **"It's Latin."**

 **She said simply.**

 **"Oh..."**

 **He paused and considered this woman before him, how beautiful she was...how arrogant.**

 **"Well I come from Balham."**

 **He concluded with a shrug, as if that were the answer to everything, and he made to turn away from her, as though the conversation were over.**

 **"Very well!"**

 **Connie exclaimed, placing her hands upon her hips.**

 **"The fact that you come from Balham probably does excuse your ignorance of even elementary Latin. However it does not excuse ignoring a written instruction which I left on your desk this morning."**

 **"Written instructions are for white collar workers...I'm manual."**

 **He said with a shrug, interrupting her for the second time.**

 **"I see."**

 **She cleared her throat.**

 **"So unless a sign reads: "Keep off the grass, Mr Bailey, and all other manual workers", you ignore it do you?"**

 **She widened her eyes and he smiled slowly, and for one horrifying moment she thought perhaps he was going to laugh at her.**

 **"That's not what I meant."**

 **"Well, what did you mean Mr Bailey?"**

 **She asked, and again he smiled.**

 **"I mean you've got a new one now."**

 **He nodded to the new machine that Max was helping Zoe set up.**

 **"It's a fait accompli."**

 **He added.**

 **"Oh! So we know French in Balham, but not Latin? Lovely..."**

 **She exhaled and let her hands fall to her sides, the man before her so infuriating that she could no longer bare to look at him, instead she turned away and listened to the sound of his rubber soled shoes making their way back over to continue with whatever menial task he had been doing in the first place.**

 **"And the patient?"**

 **She looked to Zoe who was once again checking the patients heart rate.**

 **"Would you like the answer to that question in French or in Latin?"**

 **Zoe asked, a smile on her lips, her dark eyes glittering with amusement. Connie exhaled, and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow in response.**

 **"He's showing no signs on waking up. But I can't find anything. He's due to go up for a scan, but other than a mild head wound I can't find any reason why he has remained unconscious."**

 **She said, slowly removing the rubber gloves that she wore, and dropping them in to the rubbish bag that Max held open for her.**

 **"And the phone?"**

 **Connie asked, looking to Max who pursed his lips and gave a shake of his head.**

 **"No luck...no battery."**

 **He said simply, and withdrew the phone from his pocket, handing it back to Connie who took it within her hands, it was warm from his pocket and she noticed now that the screen too had been smashed in one corner.**

 **"I'll see what I can do."**

 **She said, inspecting it.**

 ** **In the next chapter we will see Connie track down who this person is, and her softer side will begin to emerge as she visits the unconscious patient. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing it. Please let me know if there is anything you would like to see happen, as I have said in my other stories, I am writing for the people who read after all, so I would like to make sure that I write what you would like to read!****

 ** **Anyway, let me know what you think! All reviews gratefully received :) xxx****


	3. Chapter 3

Connie placed the patients phone on charge in her office. She watched it there, on her desk, waiting. Her hand folded in front of her mouth, her thumb nail between her teeth.

After what seemed like long enough, she pushed down on the power button, and almost instantly the screen illuminated, the black screen glowing a dark blue as the home screen emerged. She held it within her hand and sat down at her desk so that the cable wouldn't pull the plug from the wall socket.

His background loaded, a picture of two young girls, and a little boy, all fair haired with wide brown eyes and grins, their lips stained red, their fingers wet with the juice from strawberries that they held in a basket between them.

She smiled back at their faces without thinking.

She clicked to unlock it, but instead a keypad appeared. She exhaled slowly, thinking better about guessing. She knew nothing about this man to even begin to wonder at which numbers he may have chosen to protect his phone, or even whether there was a reason behind the ones he had chosen.

The phone vibrated in her palm, and right at the top of the screen it flashed ' _1 missed call – work'_ , she fumbled for a pen, and as the message kept flashing and repeating itself she wrote down the number on a piece of spare paper, and then, she reached for her own phone, to open Google. She typed in the number, her fingers trembled.

 _Larkhall School for Girls._ She frowned. It was Grace's school, no wonder the number had seemed vaguely familiar.

She slipped her phone into her pocket, left the other on charge and made to venture back to the mystery patient, locking the door to the office as she left.

She found him on the ward. He was stable, though still unconscious, and for the first time she was able to see him without the tube that had been placed down his throat, the wires that had been attached to his bare chest, and the doctors and nurses who had surrounded him when he had first been admitted.

Her stomach seemed to turn over all at once, and she paused, surprised at her own sudden desire to be nearer to him.

He was beautiful, she realised.

His hair was the colour of straw, a dull sun bleached colour that fell back from his face and lay against the pillow. His eyelashes were darker, hinting at auburn, and they curved, casting shadows against the soft tanned skin of his cheek where there were the faint marks of pale freckles across his cheeks and nose, much like her own... She found herself wondering briefly if he had the same dark brown eyes that the children in the picture had.

She stepped closer, until her thighs pressed against the bed rail. His hand lay only millimetres from hers, his fingers long and curled into a loose fist by his side. For a moment she just stood, watching the rise and fall of his chest until her eyes wandered back up to his face. He hadn't shaved that day, she realised, and somehow she knew that he wasn't the sort of man to usually miss a day.

He had been well dressed when he had been bought in, wearing a startlingly white t-shirt with a black suit jacket and trousers. Now he lay here, in his hospital gown, the cover loosely pulled up about his waist.

She thought of the children in the picture again, were they wondering where Daddy was?

She glanced to the monitor beside him. He had them all stumped. The scan had showed no visible injuries to his head other than the surface wound. There were no substances found within his blood, not even a trace of a paracetamol or something as mundane as a hay fever tablet. There was no sign of a seizure, or infection, and certainly no sign of brain damage, stroke or any chemical imbalances...there seemed to be absolutely nothing wrong with him, but still he would not wake up.

She gave a quick glance behind herself, and withdrew her phone from her pocket, and as quickly as she could, she leant over and took a photo of his face, wincing as the flash of her camera illuminated the cubicle for the briefest of seconds.

She checked the picture, his face glowed a ghostly white, his hair splayed out like a crown of sunshine, and his lips...she glanced up at him lying on the bed, almost as though she had to check that this man really existed.

 **She swallowed against the ache she felt in the pit of her stomach. How silly it seemed that a man lying unconscious could make her heart flutter like the beat of a hummingbirds wings. What was desire anyway, when examined in the clear light of day? Was it the way a woman searched for her clothes in the morning, or the manner in which a man might watch her sit before the mirror and comb her hair? Was it a pale November dawn, when ice formed on windowpanes and crows called from the bare black trees? Or was it the way a person might forgo involving the police, because it may result in never seeing the man before her again?**

With another glance at the photo, she pushed her phone back into her pocket and smoothed down her trousers to conceal it's presence. She had him, she smiled. Now to find out who he was...

 **Monday's update for you! Please let me know if you would like me to continue reading this :) many thanks, and have a lovely evening xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Connie pulled up outside the school entrance. The sun was high and pale in the sky, showing through the thin white clouds, dreamlike and golden above her.**

 **She parked by the school gates. The school was set in the grounds of a house built in 1579. It was a sold red brick building with Gothic windows and a weathervane on top of the entrance that swivelled and pointed accusingly in her direction as she went in, hurrying. Her steps quick and light, her heels grating against the loose gravel as she walked.**

 **Inside the building couldn't be more different. It was all bright colours and the loud chatter of children. The air was warm and smelled of school dinners and Pritt-Stick.**

 **The reception area was busy with mothers who all appeared to be asking the same question, although none were listening to the answer. Instead they were checking their iPhones and attending to various demanding toddlers who seemed to belong to no one in particular.**

 **Connie glanced about herself. It was the nanny who took Grace to and from school each day. She tried to remember how many times she had been here herself, for parents evenings – when she found the time, or to pick up Grace when she had been unwell and the nanny had left. She could count these times on one hand.**

 **A receptionist with a pale pretty face and dark hair mouthed an apology to her, signalling that she shouldn't be long, and Connie gave a brief nod of her head and a tight lipped smile. She wasn't used to being surrounded by other mothers so like herself, all busy and desperate to be going, with their expensive high heels and handbags. Though the difference between them, Connie decided, spying the array of wedding rings, was that she didn't have to rely on a husband to provide for her.**

 **She smiled to herself and glanced about the wide reception area. Doing her best to avoid conversation. Over to her left a board caught her eye. It was framed with yellow paper and on it were polaroid photos of each and every staff member. She made her way over to it slowly, scanning each line, peering at the faces, until finally, on the middle row, to the left, she spotted him.**

 ** _Mr W. Lawson – Head of Music_**

 **His name was printed in neat black letters beneath his picture. She moved closer so to avoid the glare from the sun through the window.**

 **She imprinted the name onto her memory. She looked at his face, his hair was shorter than it was now, cut neatly and pushed to one side, reminiscent of how men wore their hair in the 20's. His eyes were the colour of the sky, and though his lips were drawn into a line, he was smiling behind his eyes.**

 **She released a breath. She had him.** **It was as if hope had appeared out of nowhere to settle beside her and it wasn't going anywhere, it wasn't going to desert her now.**

 **"Excuse me, Mrs..."**

 **A voice behind her startled her and she turned sharply to see the pretty receptionist leaning out through the window of reception.**

 **"Beauchamp."**

 **She answered, and she turned fully.**

 **"Ah...Grace's mother?"**

 **The receptionist smiled and Connie nodded, surprised.**

 **"How can I help?"**

 **She asked, placing her hands on the desk before her.**

 **"I wondered if I could have a word with one of your members of staff? Mr Lawson?"**

 **She asked, and the receptionist looked momentarily taken aback.**

 **"I'm afraid Mr Lawson hasn't been in since last week."**

 **She leant further forward and lowered her voice.**

 **"He and his wife were having some difficulties."**

 **She whispered.**

 **Connie nodded slowly. Some things you carry around inside you as though they were part of your blood and bones, and when that happens, there's nothing you can do to forget about them. For some reason the mystery of this man had become one of those things, and she knew she wouldn't be able to rest until she found out what was wrong with him.**

 **"When is he expected back?"**

 **She asked, folding her arms across her chest.**

 **The receptionist sucked in a breath that puffed out her cheeks and she expelled it as she held up her hands.**

 **"I really don't know. The last time he disappeared he was gone for a month!"**

 **She sighed, and her eyes strayed to the board behind Connie's back.**

 **"A month?!"**

 **Connie repeated, and the woman before her looked back at her again.**

 **"If you're desperate to speak to him, you could always try his wife...she's still here, though I warn you, she's not in the best of moods."**

 **She suggested with a shrug.**

 **"And where might I find her?"**

 **Connie asked, feeling the hope rise within her again. She had never been one to believe in the sisterhood of women. If she wanted to gain information, she wouldn't think twice about prying it from this man's wife any way that she could.**

 **"Mrs Lawson, she's down in the science department, room S4."**

 **She answered, and when Connie looked toward the door, unsure of which way to go, the receptionist gestured with an arm to the left.**

 **"Just down there."**

 **She said, and Connie nodded her head in thanks and pushed through the double doorway into the hallway.**

 **She wondered briefly were Grace may be, and what she may be doing, and she made a mental note to ask her about both Mr and Mrs Lawson that evening.**

 **She clenched her fists by her sides, she would find out, she thought, she would work out why this man simply refused to wake up.**

 **Hello everyone. Thank you for the reviews! I hope you're still enjoying the story. I will try to update again this week. Please let me know if you'd like the story to continue? :) xxx** **  
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	5. Chapter 5

**Through the window of the classroom Connie could see Mrs Lawson at her desk. She had a stern face with wide set eyes and blonde hair cut into a blunt bob about her jaw.**

 **She stood watching through the glass from the opposite side of the classroom. She couldn't help but wonder about this woman, who she was, and why she seemed to care so little about her husbands whereabouts.**

 **She waited there until the bell sounded throughout the school, signalling the end of the lesson and she stood flush against the wall as children spilled from every visible door, some hurrying, heads bent, others calling and shouting to one another whilst they swung their bags up onto their shoulders.**

 **Eventually the corridor cleared and the science lab was free. She pressed a hand against it, feeling it swing open beneath her palm and she watched as Mrs Lawson's head turned to see who had entered.**

 **"Hello?"**

 **She drew in a breath as she spoke, and now that Connie was so close to her she could see how tired she looked, how her skin was dry and pale and beneath her eyes were dark smudges that she had tried to hide with concealer.**

 **Connie placed a hand on the strap of her bag that she had over one shoulder, somehow the frailness of the woman before her had caught her off guard.**

 **"I'm Mrs Beauchamp, I'm a consultant at Holby City Hospital."**

 **She paused, looking for the flicker of recognition, but she was met by an expression that didn't falter.**

 **"I'm looking after your husband."**

 **She added, and Mrs Lawson drew her hands in from across the desk and stood up slowly, pushing her chair under the desk, letting the feet drag along the tiled floor.**

 **"I have to get to a meeting."**

 **She said quietly, a voice Connie suspected was much unlike her usual one.**

 **"Mrs Lawson, your husband is unconscious, and as yet we haven't managed to ascertain why that is."**

 **"Well! You're the doctor..."**

 **Mrs Lawson gave a frail laugh and let her arms clap down by her sides, clearly exhausted.**

 **"And you're his wife."**

 **Connie replied, folding her arms across her chest and raising her eyebrow.**

 **Mrs Lawson drew in a long breath and held up her left hand, showing the faint pale line where her wedding ring used to sit.**

 **"On paper only."**

 **She admitted.**

 **Connie glanced about the class room, wondering if any of the work on the walls were Grace's.**

 **"You can't give us any information?"**

 **She asked.**

 **"He was found unconscious outside a supermarket..."**

 **Mrs Lawson laughed and raised a hand to her forehead, pushing at the skin between her eyes.**

 **"I fail to see how that information causes such amusement?"**

 **Connie murmured, catching the other woman's eye, watching as she sighed and shook her head.**

 **"I'm not surprised. That's all. William drinks too much, he has done ever since I told him I was leaving him."**

 **She admitted, breaking eye contact and looking down to the floor, noticing the glossy black heels that Connie wore with the tell tale red soles.**

 **"He didn't want you to go?"**

 **Connie asked, piecing together the information in her mind.**

 **Mrs Lawson smiled again and tilted her head to one side.**

 **"He didn't care if I went. It's the children he wants."**

 **"Ah..."**

 **Connie drew in a breath as she spoke.**

 **"Well, I'm sure with a little legal guidance you could come to some sort of agreement-"**

 **"He's not having them."**

 **Mrs Lawson cut her off with a sternness she reserved for her students, she raised her chin and set her jaw, her blue eyes narrowing with a sudden aggression that took Connie by surprise.**

 **"Is there any particular reason why you don't want him to see them?"**

 **She asked slowly, aware that she must tread carefully in order to get any further with this woman.**

 **"I don't think that's relevant to your diagnosis, is it, Doctor?"**

 **Mrs Lawson asked, pursing her lips, the lines about her mouth drawing in, and Connie could tell by their shape and severity that she was a smoker.**

 **"I'm late for my meeting."**

 **She added before Connie could say anything more, and she picked up her bag from by her chair and held it in the crook of her elbow.**

 **With her eyes never leaving Connie's she made for the door, but half way she stopped, hesitating as if turning something over within her head, before turning back to the desk, and pulling open a drawer, taking out a set of keys which she held out to Connie.**

 **"You can give him these. We won't be needing them any more."**

 **She said, and she made her way over to her, folding the keys into Connie's hand, and pushing passed her as she left.**

 **-1-**

 **More soon! Apologies for being so rubbish at updating. Once the summer holidays are over and my oldest child starts school I will be able to keep up this, and my other stories a bit better :)**

 **Thank you in advance for any reviews, I hope everyone is still enjoying the story! xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Connie sat in the drivers seat of her car, the keys that Mrs Lawson had given her within the palm of her hand. The science teacher had attached a card to the keyring with the address on, as though she had meant to drop them into a post box the next time she had happened to pass one.**

 **She drew in a breath through her teeth and exhaled, watching through the wind screen as the children were let out for break time, a heaving mass of them running, skipping, and shrieking...she turned the keys over with her fingers, feeling the smooth metal begin to warm against her skin.**

 **There was only one thing to do, she decided. Only one thing left to try.**

 **Without thinking too much about her decision she pulled out of the car park and back onto the main road, turning her car in the direction of 12 Catherine Road, the address that was hastily scrawled onto the card in smudged blue hand writing.**

 **Upon arrival the first thing she noticed was how the house was set apart from the others by the beautiful front garden. It was the only house in the street that hadn't had it's front garden paved over in favour of a driveway and it was framed by a picket fence painted a pale sage green. Ox-eye daisies poked their heads through the gaps, their yellow and white faces bobbing up and down happily in the breeze.**

 **Connie stepped out of the car and locked the door before making her way over to the gate. She paused, her hands upon the latch. The garden was beautiful, a little cottage garden in the city. There were dancing purple and white columbine, electric blue delphiniums that speared up from beds of buttercups and dianthus and all about her foxgloves hummed with the busy drone of plump bumblebees, their little legs coated in yellow pollen. French lavender brushed against her legs as she made her way up the path, and rose bushes bloomed in a perfect arch above the gate, and again above the door, their flowers full- pale pinks, and yellows, all heady with the scent of summer.**

 **She breathed it in, all of it, such a soft, sweet, happy smell...**

 **She glanced up at the house as she approached the front door, key in hand, casting her eye over at either neighbouring house before she pushed the key in the lock, and she glanced behind herself as she turned it, before pushing it open and slipping inside.**

 **The door closed with a gentle 'click' behind her. She exhaled a breath that she hadn't realised she had been holding. The house was silent, no sound bar the faint ticking of the hallway clock.**

 **She glanced about herself, the staircase curled up before her, though she ignored it and glanced into the kitchen, before making her way to the sitting room. Everything was in order, there seemed to be nothing out of place...and whatever it was she thought she was looking for just didn't seem to be there.**

 **She made her way over to the fireplace, leaning in closer to see the pictures that lined the mantle piece. And there he was, a picture of him, his hair blowing in the wind and he was squinting against the glare of the sun, but he was there, and he was smiling...and something about the look in his bright blue eyes made her breath catch. At some point his wife must have loved him enough to place this picture here, so that she could see him every day, even if he wasn't there.**

 **She turned her attention to the two pictures either side, one of the children, standing by the Christmas tree, surrounded by presents, their hands balled into fists by their sides, the smaller of the two wearing nothing but a sagging nappy ans a Christmas hat pulled down over one eye.**

 **And the third...a family photo. All four of them sat together on a sofa. She peered at it, she assumed they must have been at a party, for it was not this living room, not this sofa, and in the mirror above their heads she could see the reflection of the man who took the photograph wearing a party hat, and by his side stood a woman holding a champagne glass.**

 **She sighed. If only she knew what to look for...**

 **She turned on her heel, not wanting to look at the photo of this broken family any longer. But as she turned she noticed the corner of a desk behind the door from which she had entered. She hadn't noticed it when she came in, and now, as she made her way over to it she noted the empty bottle of wine, and the absence of a glass.**

 **Carefully she pushed the door too and edged closer to the desk, the heels of her shoes crunching on something as she moved. She looked down to her feet, to where the scattered fragments of a wine glass lay glinting between the worn tufts of carpet.**

 **On the desk there was a note book, a thick rough paged book with a soft leather cover that was splayed out across the desk, a pen nestled in the dip of the spine.**

 **She touched her fingers to it, and there in a painfully neat line, right across the middle of the page was William's hand-writing.**

 **"Nothing."**

 **It said.**

 **"There is nothing to say. I have nothing. I am -"**

 **The was no more. The writing simply stopped, only the faint scratch of a pen nib left where the words should be.**

 **And that was when she realised, as she touched the pages of the diary, William Lawson wasn't not waking up because there was anything medically wrong with him that she had missed. He wasn't waking up because he had nothing to wake up for.**

 **-.-**

 **More soon, please let me know if you'd like to read more :) xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

_**A little note to say...**_

 _ **I haven't given up on this story! I often receive messages asking if I have given up or abandoned a story – the answer is always no! I will never leave one of my stories unfinished! Even if I haven't updated in a while It's still there in the back of my mind, I'm still writing down ideas and odd bits of dialog to include.**_

 _ **I am ever so sorry that sometimes it takes a while for me to update, especially if I have said in a previous chapter that I will update again soon. I have two children (4 and 3), and a career to juggle as well as writing these stories, so often it's difficult to find the time to sit down and write. But I'm still here :)**_

 _ **If you ever want to give me a gentle shove to update a particular story (or to shout at me to tell me to bloody well get on with it) you're more than welcome!**_

 _ **And finally...most importantly THANK YOU for reading them, THANK YOU for all of the lovely, lovely messages and reviews and THANK YOU for being so patient.**_

 _ **xxx**_


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